on turned upon her removal from her present abode.

"I'm awfully sorry to have to go," she said; "for my time is up just
in the middle of my busy season, and that's goin' to throw me back
dreadfully. He hasn't done right by me, that Mr. Rooper, in lettin'
things go to rack and ruin in this way, and me payin' his rent so
regular."

"That's true," said Asaph. "Thomas Rooper is a hard man--a hard man,
Mrs. McJimsey. I can see how he would be overbearin' with a lone
woman like you, neither your son nor your daughter bein' of age yet
to take your part."

"Yes, Mr. Scantle, it's very hard."

Asaph stood for a moment looking at a little bed of zinnias by the
side of the door-step. "What you want, Mrs. McJimsey," said he, "is
a man in the house."

In an instant Mrs. McJimsey flushed pink. It was such a strange
thing for a gentleman to say to her.

Asaph saw the flush. He had not expected that result from his
remark, but he was quick to take advantage of it. "Mrs. McJimsey,"
said he, "you are a widow, and you are imposed upon, and you need
somebody to take care of you. If you will put that job into my hands
I will do it. I am a man what works with his head, and if you will
let me I'll work for you. To put it square, I ask you to marry me.
My sister's goin' to be married, and I'm on the pint of goin' away;
for I could not abear to stay in her house when strangers come into
it. But if you say the word, I'll stay here and be yours for ever
and ever more."

Mrs. McJimsey said not a word, but her head drooped and wild
thoughts ran through her brain. Thoughts not wild, but well trained
and broken, ran through Asaph's brain. The idea of going to
Drummondville and spending for the journey thither a dollar and
seventy-five cents of the money he had received from Mr. Rooper now
became absolutely repulsive to him.

"Mrs. McJimsey," said he, "I will say more. Not only do I ask you to
marry me, but I ask you to do it now. The evenin' sun is settin',
the evenin' birds is singin', and it seems to me, Mrs. McJimsey,
that all nater pints to this softenin' hour as a marryin' moment.
You say your son won't be home from his work until supper-time, and
your daughter has gone out for a walk. Come with me to Mr. Parker's,
the Methodist minister, and let us join hands at the altar there.
The gardener and his wife is always ready to stand up as witnesses.
And when your son and your daughter comes home to supper, they can
find their mother he